fic: A Heart's True Haven 1/2 - sabriel_mini
Masterpost
Sam’s reading a book - for leisure, something he’s taking advantage of being able to do now that Lucifer’s locked back in the cage - when Gabriel pops into the room, landing on the bed beside him. It’s nothing new and Sam doesn’t even blink at the intrusion on his personal space, just turns to the next page and waits for when the Archangel gets bored with being ignored for a book. He does blink, however, when Gabriel speaks.
"I like you, Sam."
His head whips to the right but Sam doesn’t get the chance to otherwise react before Gabriel’s hand is up, snapping him out of the room just as abruptly as he’d flown in. He blinks and snaps his jaw shut, blinking again. It isn’t unusual for Gabriel to leave him speechless or to drop crazy bombshells on him but an Archangel admitting to liking him takes the cake. He snorts at the thought and how it just brings him right back to the candy-loving Archangel.
Still, he can’t help but wonder what the point of the angel’s latest joke is.
A couple days later Sam still hasn’t figure out what Gabriel was trying to accomplish. But he’s focusing on a case, pouring over newspapers and trying to figure out who the vengeful spirit in this town might be while Dean and Castiel are out questioning witnesses, when Gabriel shows up again. Sam looks up from his papers and leans back a little, smile forming at the sight of his friend when Gabriel grips the back of Sam’s neck and pulls him up until their lips meet, practically crashing together. The angel settles over Sam’s lap, thighs bracketing his own, until Sam can feel the heat of Gabriel’s erection pressed against him. A broken moan as the angel licks further into his mouth brings Sam back to reality and he finally realizes what’s happening. Pulling back, he grips both of Gabriel’s arms and leans back into the cushion of the little motel couch he’d been doing his research on before the angel snapped in and decided to play tonsil-hockey with him.
Gabriel groans but lets Sam’s hands hold him back, though the hunter knows Gabriel can push forward easily in his grasp. He doesn’t want to be holding the Archangel away from him. Wants the opposite, to pull him closer and run his hands through hair he’s subconsciously always imagined is soft to the touch. But he can’t do it. Not when they could never work.
Even if this isn’t just some trick to mess with Sam again, Sam needs something more than whatever relationship he could possible have with a Trickster-Archangel. Not that he believes the sex would be anything short of amazing, but that’s all it would be - all there could be between them from what he’s ever known of the Trickster. Gabriel might get sentimental about past flings, as he’d been over Kali back at Motel Hell, but he doesn’t stick around.
"I can’t do this, Gabriel," he says when he’s settled his thoughts enough to speak.
"Of course you can, Sammy. Just gotta let go of my arms so we can get back to the making out."
Gabriel pushes forward but Sam tightens his fingers around the surprisingly tone arms beneath his hands. "I’m serious." He looks up, meeting incredulous amber eyes and forcing himself not to lower his own. They can’t do this, can’t be together when there wouldn’t be anything more.
Weight lifting from his lap, Sam watches Gabriel lean up and away from him. "So I see," Gabriel says softly. He sounds disappointed, but not surprised and it strengthens Sam’s resolve that this wasn’t anything more than Gabriel thinking that he liked Sam and that he might be good entertainment for awhile.
"I’m sorry, I just - "
"No need to explain, Sasquatch," Gabriel interrupts as he shuffles out of Sam’s grip and off his lap, easygoing smirk back in place when he’s standing.
Sam lets out a breath but nods. The angel takes the seat beside him and looks at the papers spread out across the table. "So, need any angelic assistance?"
With a small, relieved smile that nothing seems different, Sam bends down to pick up what he’s collected so far. "That’d be great."
Gabriel’s lips stretch in the facsimile of a smile, not-Sam’s laugh surrounding him until he’s unable to do anything but. It’s a sound that is so familiar and yet so seldom passes through its true owner’s lips, rarely bubbling beneath the surface. Hidden within a broad chest until there is no other option than to release it or explode. Gabriel cherishes each laugh he can draw from the youngest Winchester but he doesn’t manage it as often as he’d like, even now that the Apocalypse is over, averted.
But the Sam lying at his side, head pillowed comfortably on Gabriel’s lap like it belongs there, laughs freely, without a care. How Gabriel thinks Sam might sound now had Azazel not forcibly ripped him away from his life at Stanford. He wishes he could get Sam back to some semblance of that - not change him, but get him to realize that it’s okay to relax, to start enjoying life again in a way he hasn’t since Dean made that deal, since Jessica died, since everything. Maybe the Winchesters can’t stop being hunters - though Gabriel has his suspicions about the elder Winchester brother and a certain Thursday’s angel becoming more and more tempted to finally settle down - but that had never stopped the boys from making their own fun before Hell and Lucifer and the angels.
Sam - but not Sam, never really Sam - turns until he’s on his back, legs stretched out over the extra long, striped couch that Gabriel never actually snapped up but had found its way into the room anyway, and smiles up at the Archangel. The real littlest Winchester has no idea about this place and yet everything he could want is there all the same. There is no doubt in Gabriel’s mind that Sam would have picked them out if given the chance. Sam raises one of his hands up, warm where it cups Gabriel’s cheek. "You all right, babe? You’re quiet tonight." Hazel eyes watch him, searching his face closely.
Smiling back, lips twitching further to the right as they attempt a smirk, Gabriel holds his own hand over the one on his cheek. The concern crinkling Sam’s brow eases slightly at the contact and disappears altogether, lines melting away with a roll of his eyes when the angel speaks, "Just coming up with some new pranks to pull on that Neanderthal you call a brother." His tone is light, teasing, and Sam breathes a chuckle as he sits up, hand still firm against Gabriel’s face. There lips meet, soft and warm and mostly chaste but for a faint swipe of tongue that glides over the angel’s bottom lip. A small shiver runs through his body and the Archangel refuses to think about how his reaction is nothing compared to what it could be if this was the real Sam rather than an almost-perfect copy. There’s no use dwelling on what he knows he can’t have.
Gabriel smirks when Sam pulls back, letting go of his hold on Sam’s hand to push some slightly disheveled hair behind the man’s ear. Sam grins, just as sweetly as Gabriel knows the real Sam would if given the attention he deserves - if he’d just give Gabriel a chance. Then the man is shifting, laying his head back in Gabriel’s lap, eyes on the television in front of them once more.
Gabriel will always want more than this, will always long for that bright soul. But sharing his home - their nest, really - with a copy of whom that soul belongs, is as close as he can get. And he’s willing to cling to it as tight as possible.
Wrapping one arm across Sam’s chest, Gabriel’s other hand resumes it’s gentle petting of the dark mop of hair and he forces himself to focus on the here and now - on what he can have.
Castiel watches his brother closely. Gabriel, while as loud and mischievous as ever, has been behaving strangely. Castiel can’t help but be concerned; the Archangel is the only one of his brothers to take his side. The only one who backed him up in the battle for humanity. When the Apocalypse was stopped and Castiel worried he would lose Gabriel - sure the Archangel would go back to his more solitary existence - his brother stayed. Took him aside and assured him they would always be family and Gabriel wasn’t going to leave him again.
He hunts with the Winchesters, plays tricks on all of them - harmless, of course - and has become ever more a part of their group than he’d been during the fight against Heaven and Hell.
Somehow, though, he’s different now. Gabriel leaves them more between hunts. It isn’t very odd, his brother enjoys time on his own after being accustomed to it for so long. But Castiel has a feeling he knows where Gabriel is spending that time; so much like Castiel had done when on his own and in need of that feeling of security - safety an angel can find nowhere else - not even in Heaven.
But the Apocalypse is over, no threats looming over them any longer, and Castiel is left wondering why Gabriel suddenly feels the need to go to his haven. As far as Castiel is aware, the Archangel never used it even in the rare moment of downtime between fighting Lucifer and Zachariah and every angel and demon between. The Winchesters could be trying - Dean especially but Castiel has his own way of dealing with his human, ways that more than make up for his behavior - but they are loyal allies and had been more than welcoming when Gabriel made his decision to stick around.
At least, he’d wondered over the reason until he truly looked at Gabriel for the first time since the Archangel offered to join their side and fight the good fight. Too much time spent nearly fallen and Castiel had become used to only looking at the surface unless it was necessary to dig deeper - still does so now. But he finally looked at his brother, assessed the blinding grace of an Archangel and that was when Castiel saw it.
Gabriel’s grace shines no dimmer than it should, not really. But something is missing; a piece that would be found and patched into place - become whole with Gabriel - when he and his true mate come together as one.
He can think of no one that could possibly be Gabriel’s mate - his other half - but Castiel wishes his brother would find the one who is made for him. The Archangel deserves having a person to carry some of his weight, to lean on when things become too much for him. What Castiel has found in Dean. Someone always able and willing to help or listen or set him straight.
And he’s determined to help his brother find this being.
Since Castiel made the decision to help Gabriel find this person, the one who would make him whole, he starts noticing the wayward glances his brother shoots at Sam. The way the two fit so well together despite their rocky past. And how Sam watches Gabriel just as much as Gabriel watches him, trying to figure the Archangel out, but without any of the suspicion or fear one might hold when in the presence of the same creature who had killed his brother over a hundred times, a creature with enough power to smite entire cities with barely a snap of fingers. The two had seemed to form an easy companionship when Gabriel joined their group; researching together, keeping the other sane while Castiel dealt with Dean and vice versa.
A look into Sam’s soul - still bright even after all the tearing and shoving from Heaven and especially Hell since he was so young - and Castiel knows his suspicions are correct. Within Sam’s soul shines a piece, brighter than any human soul could be and most definitely not human.
Sam is the one meant for his brother, for Gabriel. And the Archangel is using his haven - one meant to be shared - to hide from it. It makes no sense to do such a thing and Castiel has never heard of an angel avoiding their mate in the past. Especially Gabriel, who has never been afraid to go after someone he truly wants. Castiel can’t think of a reason for Gabriel to hide from Sam unless he’s already been refused. But even that possibility is hard to swallow because soul mates can only stay apart for so long. So if Sam did refuse any advances, the question on Castiel’s mind is: why?
When Sam comes to him for answers, - Hey, Cas... Do you know where Gabriel goes when he isn’t with us? - Castiel knows his urge to explain everything is one he needs to restrain. But his brother is miserable, locking himself away when instead he should be sharing his newfound, post-Apocalyptic freedom with Sam, with Castiel and Dean. More than the distant way he had been dealing with them recently. And Castiel needs to do whatever he can to help Gabriel be happy again - be himself again.
Nodding in answer, Castiel sits across from the youngest Winchester. Concern for the fourth member of their group bleeds through his words, clear behind the curiosity in Sam’s voice and evident in the furrow of the man’s prominent brow.
Maybe it will be easier to bring these two together than he’d originally assessed.
"Yes, Sam. I am aware of where my brother chooses to spend his time."
Sam seems to perk up, eyebrows rising expectantly and Castiel continues, halting his words to sound hesitant and keep his eagerness to share this information with the man who needs to hear it most undetectable. "Gabriel often frequents his... haven, I suppose you could call it."
"What’s that?" Head cocked to the side, Sam looks across at the angel eagerly, like he knows how important this could be for him. But then, maybe something in their potential bond is calling out to him and telling him just that.
Or he’s merely being curious, as Winchesters tend to be. Castiel isn’t concerned with the reasons behind Sam’s need to know, is only glad that it will make bringing two mates - two of the three beings in the whole universe he is closest to - together and allow them to share in the contentment and happiness he’s known since completing his bond with Dean.
"It can be any number of things, but it is essentially a place specifically made for the angel who inhabits it. A place where we can go that is safe and secure from others."
"But..," Sam pauses and Castiel waits patiently as his friend chooses his words carefully to form a question he’s been expecting since he decided to explain this to Sam. "This haven. All angels have one?"
Castiel nods.
"If it’s so safe, why didn’t you ever take Dean and Bobby or anyone there when we needed time to regroup?" His voice holds no accusation and Castiel is irrationally proud that this human he calls friend trusts him enough to know that his actions must have reasons behind them.
"Only a select few are granted access to an angel’s haven in order to give us a place that is truly impermeable to those who might tarnish it."
Sam nods his understanding even as he bites his lip, as though more questions threaten to burst from him and Castiel wonders briefly why John Winchester never just answered his youngest’s ‘why’s’ when the young man before him is generally so content in just knowing. Even then, that was probably one more push from either Heaven or Hell in getting Sam to follow Dean’s lead in starting the Apocalypse. Ruby had been one of the few willing - by all appearances, at least - to help Sam and get him the answers he so desperately craved.
"Why is he spending so much time there now?"
There’s something in Sam’s voice Castiel can’t place. Almost like when the younger Winchester feels guilty - maybe it’s that the angel doesn’t know what he feels guilty for. "He hardly ever left when we were fighting the Apocalypse. I’d think he would have wanted to get away then. Not now that the worst we have to deal with is a skinwalker or a ghost that needs putting to rest."
"I think," Castiel starts with genuine hesitance. Coming out with the real reason - the admittedly assumed reason - is something he knows he can’t do. It occurs to him that Gabriel might have stuck around back then in order to make sure his mate was protected from their brother and now that the immediate danger is locked back in his cage, Gabriel feels he doesn’t have to be here every moment. Aside from that, Sam won’t react well to being told who he was truly meant to be with. Forever the rebel, but also still damaged from the manipulations of Lucifer when the fallen angel attempted to convince Sam that they were made for each other. "I think that my brother felt... obligated to stay through the fighting after his supposed weakness in running away - "
"That’s ridiculous. He couldn’t handle the pressure and having no one listen to his needs back then."
"I don’t see it as weakness either, Sam. But beyond that, I think he was being protective." Sam lifts an eyebrow in question. "Lucifer was upping his attempts to get you to listen to him, to say yes. Dean was slowly losing his hope and I was nearly powerless to help either of you. Gabriel stayed by our sides constantly in order to keep us safe."
Understanding dawns on Sam’s face, eyes growing slightly wider. "Now the Apocalypse is over, he can take that time for himself again."
Nodding, Castiel watches as Sam seems to struggle saying something more.
"He’s still going to be sticking around though, right?" The words are spoken with a forced casualness both Winchesters are so good at but Castiel can see right through. But he understands Sam’s need to act like he doesn’t care, like this won’t affect him. He’s lost too much in the past that he’s allowed himself to become attached to - including Dean more than once.
"I believe so, yes. If he’d wanted to go back to his life as either Trickster or Archangel, he would have done so when we won."
The tension in Sam’s shoulders visibly relaxes and a breath punches out of him as if he’d been holding it in.
Sam rolls his shoulders, barely glancing at Castiel as he thinks over what he’s learned.
Is it his fault Gabriel feels the need to lock himself away in his haven, somewhere completely impenetrable?
No, he decides quickly. He runs a hand through his hair. "Thanks, Cas."
The angel nods as he stands, pausing before flying off, wing beats trailing after him.
It couldn’t have been because of Sam; he knows better than to think he ranks that high on an Archangel-turned-Trickster’s list. And Gabriel hadn’t even been upset about Sam’s rebuff of him that day. The day Sam has only spent two occasions thinking about - all morning and all night. It hadn’t exactly rattled Sam but it’s difficult to not recall that... whatever it was. Knowing the Archangel, it was probably all just a ruse. A game that Sam had decided he wasn’t going to play. Couldn’t play. Yet, the feeling of fleeting warmth, the weight of Gabriel on top of him, is a constant memory.
Still, even now that he knows where Gabriel snaps away to nearly every day, Sam can’t rein in his curiosity. He doesn’t want to look too closely at the ‘why’s’ of it, but the Archangel had become one of his best friends through the Apocalypse. He had Castiel and will forever be grateful for their friendship, but it’s always been clear that Cas and Dean are a duo of their own. When Gabriel joined the team, Sam had someone there to talk to who wasn’t his brother or his brother’s angel. Or the devil. And the Archangel was always ready with a smirk, a joke, and a candy bar on the days Sam needed it most.
Now Gabriel is going somewhere Sam can’t follow, somewhere he isn’t invited and he can’t keep denying that it hurts. Just a little. Like he’s lost the only friend he’s made in years - since joining Dean to take out a woman in white in Jericho, California - and he doesn’t know how to convince that friend to stay.
"Rise and shine, princess!"
Sam groans and rolls away from the incessant nudging of his brother’s boot against his ribs.
They have a new hunt to get to, what looks like the first group of demons they’ve seen since they won and Dean’s more excited than he has any right to be. But Sam supposes his brother is hoping to dish out a little payback now that they don’t have any bigger fish to fry. And he can’t say that he blames him for it; if anyone deserves to do that, it’s Dean.
He slides out of bed, dodging a well-aimed kick and giving Dean a punch in the arm for his trouble before locking himself in the bathroom.
Dean’s out when Sam comes out of the shower, probably getting coffee or breakfast to fuel up before finishing their research. His brother’s absence at least explains the lack of pounding on the bathroom door that usually follows a dig about Sam wasting the hot water even when Dean’s finished showering for the day.
Grabbing clothes to change into, Sam pauses when his hand brushes over something smooth and warm to the touch. He hasn’t put anything new into his duffel in longer than he cares to dwell on.
It’s small and deceptively heavy given its size, sitting flat against his palm in a perfect circle; a golden compass of some sort. The arrow - shaped strangely like a trumpet of all things - spins lazily in a perfect circle, never slowing or landing in a specific direction. Goosebumps run up his arm and Sam flips it over, holding it between his fingertips to figure out where it could have come from when he sees a symbol - more like two symbols interconnected - engraved into the back of it.
Before he can do more than recognize it as what he thinks is enochian - it’s been months since they’ve had to deal with the ancient angelic language and he hasn’t actually committed the letters to memory - Dean barges through the door, arms laden with bags of what smell like pancakes and a cup holder carrying two coffees. A newspaper is tucked under his arm.
Placing the mystery compass back into his duffle, Sam turns and grabs his coffee, taking a huge gulp before putting it down and settling in to finish going over the details of the case. He’s curious about the compass, wants to know where it came from and how it ended up in his duffel but he can’t seem to work himself up to feeling worried about it, like it’s somehow familiar to him. And the angels of Heaven have stopped messing with them - with the exception of Gabriel’s pranks - since God came into the picture and sent Lucifer back into time out. He’ll ask Castiel if the angel can translate the enochian etched into it when he gets the chance.
The good thing, Sam decides as the angels appear in the room that morning, about fighting what could potentially be at least ten demons - even with the knife and Colt, those still aren’t good odds - is that Gabriel is joining them on the hunt. He always helps out, even with the smaller hunts - unless Dean feels the need to prove they can do it on their own, which happens more and more often since they’ve started hunting the smaller gigs again - but this time Gabriel insisted that there was no way he’d let them ‘have all the fun’.
The Archangel flops down on the too-small couch - and Sam wishes wistfully about someday finding a couch long enough to accommodate him, even if it’s just a pipe dream - with a smirk on his face. Sam barely notices the way Gabriel’s feet land carelessly in his lap. He’s too focused on smiling so wide his face hurts in greeting before going back to cleaning Ruby’s knife, avoiding the feet in his lap without a thought.
"Hey Gabe," Dean says, barely looking up from where he’s cleaning the Colt at the table that currently holds most of their hand held weapons. It looks like they’re getting ready for a battle, which Sam thinks they’ve had more than enough of in their lives.
"Hey there, Deano." Gabriel’s smirk turns triumphant when Dean snaps back with, "Don’t call me that."
With a chuckle that Sam didn’t realize he missed - it’s been months since they’ve interacted outside of hunts, not counting when the Archangel kissed him - Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Stop calling me Gabe and I’ll consider not calling you Deano anymore."
Sam has to set his rag down to stifle a snicker behind his hand and even Castiel is smirking at Dean glaring as though they haven’t had this exact same argument a million times before.
The muffled sound of a laugh shoots through Gabriel’s entire being, zinging through his grace and it flares out unnoticeably by the Winchesters. Castiel shoots him a look but Gabriel pointedly ignores it in favor of enjoying his victory. He got Sam to laugh; the real Sam. It may not have been open and loud and carefree the way he still yearns to pull from the tallest Winchester. But it was real and Sam is still smiling.
"So how many are we looking at here?" Gabriel leans back against the arm of the dinky little couch - he tries to push thoughts of a couch large enough for one gigantor sized human out of his mind - and links his fingers behind his head. It’s only the fact that he isn’t human that keeps him from reacting when Sam reaches forward to set the knife he’d been working on down and one of Sam’s hands lands thoughtlessly over his ankle. The human doesn’t even seem to notice that the fingers of his left hand are currently wrapped around Gabriel’s ankle right above his sneakers, but Gabriel does.
The smirk on his face never twitches and Dean seems as oblivious as Sam but Gabriel feels Castiel’s eyes on him for the second time since he’d gotten here. He knows his brother is concerned about him, always knows when Castiel is watching him, but there’s nothing he will say to explain what’s happening with him.
"Looks like ten demons. Maybe more," Sam interrupts his thoughts and Gabriel’s eyes focus on the human’s face as he speaks, "There’ve been at least three deaths and each of the homes had traces of sulfur when Dean and I finally got a look at them."
Gabriel whistles lowly. "Good thing you’ve got angels on your shoulders, huh boys? Let’s go smite some black eyed sons of bitches."
This time Sam rolls his eyes, but Gabriel counts it as a win anyways.
Sam - who knows he isn’t really Sam - hums to himself as he chops the pecans he’d toasted earlier into bits on the cutting board. Music blares out from a boombox up in the large garden window where light shines through, illuminating the room enough that there’s no need to switch on any of the overhead lights.
Gabriel had gone to be with the real Winchesters this morning and not-Sam hopes the Archangel will finally do something, finally tell the real Sam how he feels, because the angel deserves to be happy and whole. Not-Sam wants nothing more than for Gabriel to be happy and while he does his best, there’s no way he can be what the angel needs. Amber eyes that so often sparkle with mischief watch him while they’re together and not-Sam always sees the anguish behind them. Sees the longing, the wish that what they have was real instead of something Gabriel created with a snap of his fingers.
But until his Archangel gets the real Sam to see him, to watch him back and realize they’re made for one another, not-Sam will do his best to make Gabriel as happy as possible. That means being himself, being the man Sam could have been if his life hadn’t been pulled him so many different directions - and could still be if he gave Gabriel a chance. Laughing during a funny movie and rolling his eyes at the angel’s crude humor and cuddling together on the too-big sofa - but never going further than some chaste and not-so-chaste kisses because Gabriel can’t seem to let himself go further with anyone but Sam, even if that anyone is a well-made copy.
And tonight it means finishing the brownies he’s chopping the pecans for. Gabriel might not have the real Sam, but these brownies will be real and not-Sam wants to see the gorgeous smile he loves so much become as genuine as he can make it.
Nearly two hours and twelve exorcised demons after the four of them met up that morning, Sam trails Dean into the room. His shoulder is sore and probably already bruised from his earlier impact with a bookshelf and Dean’s trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a limp. Gabriel’s sprawled out across the couch looking for all the world like he hadn’t just fought off more than his share of demons - and then some.
Rolling his shoulders, Sam winces before kicking the Archangel’s legs off the couch and making space for him to sit. Castiel stands from his seat at the table and immediately follows Dean to his bed, badgering him until Dean allows his angel to heal his injuries. When a disgruntled Dean acquiesces, Castiel places a hand on Dean’s arm - where Sam knows Castiel’s handprint is still burned into the skin - and a moment later the pained creases on his brother’s face melt away. His brother’s angel looks over at Dean, blue eyes flicking briefly to the Archangel beside him.
"We will return later."
Which he knows means they’ll be back tomorrow and Sam would smirk at the slightly embarrassed look on Dean’s face - as though he and Cas have ever been sneaky - but he’s too tired and sore so he only nods and a moment later the two are gone.
His shoulder throbs again and Sam winces, rolling it in attempt to loosen tensed muscles. The warm pressure of a hand on the back of his shoulder causes him to start but Gabriel just chuckles at him. "Chill out, gigantor." Sam sits back and relaxes into the touch as the pain slowly recedes until he’s sure any evidence of his collision with that bookshelf is gone as though it had never happened.
"Thanks," he says in the quiet of the room, tired after the last of his adrenaline rush drains out of him.
Gabriel lets go of his shoulder and sits back against the arm of the couch. "No problem, kiddo."
It’s almost embarrassingly comforting to hear the nickname - not pet name, because they aren’t together and would never be - slip past Gabriel’s lips and Sam wants to relax back into their usual easy banter but the room is quiet again, awkward in a way it’s never been between them after Gabriel joined their group. They hadn’t had the chance to talk about anything other than their case and Sam misses how the two of them used to hang out after a hunt, Gabriel snapping them away to someplace quiet where he could relax or just sitting together in the motel room watching bad movies while Dean was out getting a drink or away with Castiel.
Instead, all too soon, Gabriel is standing from his seat and smirking down at Sam. "Well, it’s been fun. See you around, kiddo."
And this time even the nickname isn’t enough to make him feel better. Gabriel doesn’t even give him a chance to reply before he’s snapping away.
With a sigh, he stands up and heads for the bathroom, stripping down before starting the shower. Having the bathroom to himself is a small relief. No Dean around to call him ‘Princess’ or yell at him for hogging all the hot water.
It’s only when he’s climbing into the tiny stall, luke-warm water pounding against his chest, that he realizes he never got around to asking Castiel about the compass in his duffel.
Part 2